Flood
by rainandwood
Summary: It was the one action in my life that would alter my worldly perception, my soul, my heart, my entire view on life; though, at the time, I didn’t know it. OC, beta
1. Collision

**Hello! I would first like to thank my wonderful beta AnotherStupidLamb for her amazing work, without which this would not be published. **

**A note on place and time: This story is set POST Breaking Dawn. Lilah is not a replacement for Bella. **

**Disclaimer: Twilight is the wonderful creation of Stephanie Meyer, and I am in no way making money off of this story.**

**Chapter One: A Chance Encounter**

It was the one action in my life that would alter my worldly perception, my soul, my heart, my entire view on life; though, at the time, I didn't know it.

I had moved from my home of Santa Fe, New Mexico—filled with artists and hippies, sunny days and stunning sunsets—to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington, the rainiest place in the continental U.S. I was two years away from graduating at home, and had never even been to the Pacific Northwest. I didn't mind much, pulling up and moving. I loved Santa Fe, with its culture and mountains and food, but my social life, my connections were few. It was getting settled in that bothered me. So why had I moved? As with almost all of my life, the decision came down to my mother. My mother, Sandra, had Huntington's disease. It's a rare, incurable genetic disorder that robs a person of their ability to control their emotions, movements, mental status and eventually costs them their life. My mother was diagnosed when I was twelve, after three years of depression and mood swings. With her diagnosis, my father started to disengage. He left three years ago, after a violent and abusive episode, and I have been left to care for my mother ever since.

The disease progressed slowly at first, but about a year ago it picked up momentum and reached a stage where my mother could no longer function alone. She couldn't stand to have her friends and former colleagues watch as her life slowly slipped away, and missed the rain and green of her home state of Washington. I couldn't deny her the ability to live her last few years as she wished. So, after months of preparation, planning and figuring of finances, we moved.

Forks, Washington: a small, sunless, green logging town. I missed New Mexico, I missed the sun, and I worried about my life here. I woke up to what I'd been dreading for months. I was my first day of school here, in a little town where I'd be a fascination, if only for a few days. It's not that I don't like people, I try to be friendly. I had acquaintances at school back home, but I couldn't afford friends. Friends require close relationships, sharing, and questions about my personal life. It was simply easier to be friendly and remain anonymous than anything else.

I gulped down some orange juice, my stomach lurching in anticipation. My mother was sitting in her chair, jerking and rocking back and forth, her meds unconsumed on her plate. I sighed and walked over, gently coaxed her into opening her mouth, stiff from dystonia. I tilted the cup of water to her lips and held her chin up as she swallowed. Giving her a last worried glance, I walked out the door and into the rain. I hadn't gotten a car yet, worried about funds; and frankly, I'd seen no need to, Forks is small enough to bike anywhere. At the time, I obviously hadn't been thinking about the rain. Sloshing through the mud to a used bike I'd bought yesterday, I groaned and realized that biking in the rain is far more difficult than riding a bike through a dry street on a warm day. I vaulted myself onto the seat, grimaced at the feeling of wet jeans, then placing my foot on the pedal, rode off to school.

I did a double take at the red brick buildings. This was a school? This is what one hundred and fifty people looked like? Anonymity, my best defense, would be hard to keep up here. Sighing for the hundredth time that day, I headed to the office.

The secretary looked up at me with a smile. "Ah yes. You must be the new girl from Mexico? Lilah Adams?" I almost laughed at her knowledge of North American geography, but kept my manners and nodded when she got my name right. She showed me my schedule, gave me a map—as if I could get lost here—and told me to have a good day and enjoy the rest of my time in Forks. I smiled and headed out the door, once again into a light drizzle.

I walked towards my first class, English, in a building labeled with a number three. Quaint, I thought, but cute. The students here looked at me, not really unfriendly, just nervous to make a first move, at least I hoped. My clothes were simple, jeans and a t-shirt hidden under a purple raincoat. I looked like every other kid here, and they looked at me like I was from a foreign country. Maybe they thought, like the secretary, that I was from Mexico. Smiling wryly, I entered the class. By the end of my first two classes, English and Biology, I'd figured out how the day would go. I would be introduced, either by myself or the teacher, people would ogle and I'd eventually go back to my seat and get on with class. By lunchtime, I'd gotten tired of the stares, the looks without the follow up of introductions. Was I really that strange? I wasn't all that tanned, maybe a little more than everyone here, but not by much. My hair was dark, simple. I was slim, barely muscular, only from the fact my main form of transportation was a bike. I was completely average on the outside.

As my thoughts went deeper and deeper into why no one would talk to me, it happened. I was standing there with my lunch tray, looking for a place to sit, when someone bumped into me from the side, sending me flying. I gasped as I hit a hard, cold surface, felt a shock, and fell to the floor. I looked up to discover who I had fallen into. He was tall—not extremely so, maybe six feet—and vaguely muscular under his t-shirt. I could hardly pay attention to that though. It was his face—perfect in every imaginable way—that drew my attention. Features that you only see in magazines after hours of airbrushing away imperfections, angular, flawless, framed by wavy chestnut hair and set off by amber eyes.

He looked at me, eyes torn by something I couldn't imagine and said in a stiff voice, "Sorry."

I could barely get a sentence out.

"Oh! I am sorry! Will, man, sorry! And you, you must be the new  
girl from Mexico, Lily?"

I tore my eyes away from the perfect creature I had just fallen into, and looked up to see a much more normal teenage boy. Offering a hand and helping me up, he introduced himself as Josh. Picking up my lunch tray, which had miraculously been reassembled, I established myself as Lilah from _New_ Mexico. I headed off to eat lunch with Josh and his friends, the boy I had collided with nowhere in sight.

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	2. The Project

**Hello, and welcome to chapter two, beta-ed by the wonderful AnotherStupidLamb. Thank you to my one reviewer who wasn't my beta as well. Reviews are fantastic, and much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Stephanie Meyer.**

**Chapter Two: The Project**

The next few weeks passed without incident as my life became routine and I settled back into a normal groove. My school days were filled with small talk at lunch and boredom in the classroom. My evenings were spent caring for my mother and making sure the house stayed in decent shape.

Well, maybe things weren't completely normal. I was obsessive over the guy I had bumped into, Will Cullen as I later found out. Sure, he was beautiful, but he was also different. I was just having a hard time figuring out how. The way he had looked at me with those golden eyes, his face twisted into a mask of torment. And how he just spun around and left so quickly I wasn't even sure it had happened. It was all I could think about at night. _Not a crush_, I kept telling myself. It was a strange curiosity, like I needed to know about him just because he was so mysterious. Did no one else realize that he was so different?

At lunch, I tried to fit in, ask questions as nonchalantly as possible. I learned what little people actually knew about them, the Cullens'. Dr. Cullen and his wife Esme, both in their twenties, had adopted Will, Bella, Edward, Alice and Jasper, all in their teens. They were all as impossibly beautiful as Will; pale, angular and graceful. They were all just as subtly different from everybody else. The way they looked at each other, barely talked, never ate, chuckled quietly at odd moments, it was all off.

Edward and Bella, Jasper and Alice, they were couples, earning them small town whispers and gossip at school. People seemed to clear away from them in the hallways, almost subconsciously. Some part of me believed that Will was purposefully avoiding me, that I had done him some wrong. That was why he seemed to sit farthest away from me in all of my classes. I sighed. Maybe my sleep loss was making me paranoid.

"Lilah? What do you say?"

I was sitting at lunch, thinking when Megan, one of my new lunch buddies, interrupted me with a hopeful question.

"What?"

"Port Angeles on Saturday? Dinner, movie, shopping? Please?" Megan, tall, red headed and perky, looked at me eagerly and I cringed. I hated to let her down. She'd been extremely nice to me ever since I arrived, but Port Angeles was more than an hours' drive away, and I didn't like to leave my mother for more than a few hours at a time.

I lied, something I was a natural at by now.

"Sorry. I still haven't finished unpacking all our stuff, maybe some other time? We could...," I stumbled trying to find an activity we could do in Forks "Take a walk, go hiking?" I finished lamely. She looked at me with a blank face.

"If you want, Josh and Kim and I could come over and help. I'm sure they'd be fine with that. Port Angeles will still be there next weekend."

I nearly panicked.

"No, no, no, no. I don't want to ruin your weekend. And all the good movies will be out of theaters if you wait. Don't worry about me. I've got enough stuff to keep me busy." I said, my words coming out in a rush. Megan looked at me strangely, and then smiled.

"Well, if you insist. The weekend after though? Mr. Stevenson is assigning us that project, and he usually lets us choose partners. We could work on it for a few hours at my place then watch a movie or something?" She smiled.

"That sounds great." I agreed.

It did sound nice, having an excuse to get out of the house for a few hours. My mother had been okay for a few days when we arrived, comforted by the rain. But now she was just as bad as in New Mexico, her mood swings and tantrums returned, her movements barely manageable with her medication. I reminded myself then that I couldn't get too close to Megan, as nice as she may be. I didn't want to be the freak with a mom who couldn't even say hi when her kid brought friends over. I didn't want anyone to treat me differently, to look at me and whisper every time I walked through a hall or into Thriftway. Forks was a small town and news spread like wildfire. I didn't have the luxury of letting anyone in. I didn't know how to let anyone in.

The bell rang for English, and I hurried to put my stuff together. My classes here weren't challenging for me, I'd been in almost all AP at home, occupying myself with work in lieu of a social life. The project that Megan had been talking about would be easy as well, just a paper analyzing the themes in Romeo and Juliet, to be done with a partner and a soundtrack for each scene.

As I took my seat, I looked around to find that Will was sitting, painfully beautiful as always, at the opposite corner of the room from me, in a class where seating assignments were a personal choice. I looked away, shaking my head. I really needed to get some sleep. Mr. Stevenson, our enthusiastic teacher, greeted us.

"As you all have been anticipating for three long weeks, it is time for us to start work on your projects! And, as this book is about breaking social constrictions and societal feuds for a greater purpose, I have taken the time to pair you up myself! Life must sometimes mimic art!"

"Yeah, that turned out great for Romeo and Juliet." I mumbled under my breath.

The class moaned. Megan, who I sat next to, rolled her eyes, and looked at me apologetically.

"Well, you can still come over and watch a movie, unless, by some freak accident we're put together." She smiled. The list of partners was posted on the wall, and the students scrambled to look.

Megan returned with a smile on her face. "I have Mark." The guy she admired from a far.

I smiled at her and looked at the list myself. My face turned pale.

_Cullen and Adams, _The paper read.

I turned around to look at him. He was staring at me, eyes smoldering. I walked back to my desk quickly, ignoring the burning look from him in the back of my head.

"What? Who is it?"

"William Cullen."

"Well, he's easy on the eyes at least. He doesn't talk much to anyone, though. I'm not sure how well he works with people. He's a little... strange. I could call you half way through, if you need an out. Pretend it's an emergency?" Megan offered.

I smiled at her and laughed, my stomach still lurching.

Maybe this was my chance to finally get him out of my head, resolve my inexplicable intrigue and move on.

"I don't have a cell. I'll be fine. We'll catch that movie at your place another time?"

She nodded at me, but her facial expression changed suddenly, and she hurried off with a quick "See you later."

I spun around. There he was, golden eyes staring like he saw everything I'd been thinking about him for the past two weeks, his words spoken as if he'd never seen me before.

"I'm Will Cullen. We're paired together for the Romeo and Juliet project." He said; his voice still stiff. I noticed he barely breathed and his posture was tense.

"Yeah, I'm Lilah." I fumbled to extend my hand, but stopped when he made no such motion himself.

"We should probably work on it soon. When are you available?" His voice was inflexible, but held some hint of another emotion.

I decided that for continuity's sake, I could not be available Saturday.

"Uh… Sunday, around one at the library? Is that okay?" I asked, determined to be polite. He looked like he wanted to dash out the door, like he was fighting himself just to stay here and finish our conversation. But he seemed determined to stare into my eyes so intensely, so fervently, that I wished I could look away, stop him from delving too deep.

He gave me a smirk and said, still rigid, "Sunday. Library. I'll be there at one."

He turned so fast I hardly knew what had happened.

I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, my head swimming as I breathed in the air from the space he had just occupied.

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	3. Sunday, Library, One O'Clock

**Hello and sorry for the delay, I had a major computer malfunction about a week ago. I would like to thank my wonderful, and possibly psychic, beta AnotherStupidLamb for her work on this chapter and dedication to this story. I would also like to thank her for my ONLY review. I love reviews, really, really, really, love them. I make a point of replying to every one, so if you read this chapter, click that little button and tell me what you think. Anyhoo, on with the story.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer. I only own Will and Lilah, though at times it seems that they have more control over me than I do over them**

I woke up on Sunday, exhausted as always, with a stomach full of lead. Fear, I wondered? Maybe I was just nervous. I walked to my mother's room, peeked inside, and sighed in relief after seeing that she was still asleep. I immediately felt a pang of guilt. It wasn't her fault, the mood swings, the tantrums, the crying spells. Everyone once and a while the walks, music and her medication would be right, and the shroud of illness would peel back a little and I'd remember that she was a human being. She was my mother, and not just an empty shell. That hadn't happened in a long time. Her diseased brain wracked with delusions and terrors, my voice only comforting for its familiarity. I doubted she knew who I was anymore.

I stopped myself then, pulling myself back from the pool of despair, anger and fear that filled my chest. To allow myself to think about it was like dipping your toes into a raging river, one minute you're fine, the next you're drowning in an uncontrollable flood._ I couldn't drown now_, not now when there isn't anyone to pull me out, only someone I need to keep afloat.

I looked at the clock and cursed when I realized it was ten. A shot of adrenaline coursed through my veins as I thought about the afternoon to come. I'd noticed that William hadn't been at school on Friday, but he hadn't called me to say he wasn't coming today.

I shook my head again, frustrated by my own intrigue, and headed off to shower before my mother woke up. After dressing myself in my customary jeans and t-shirt, I went into our bathroom again to fix my unruly hair.

I stared at my face in the mirror, my bloodshot hazel eyes staring back at me defiantly. They were underscored by dark circles, the product of chronic sleep deprivation.

I scanned my face, my eyes roaming from my forehead to my rounded chin. My cheekbones were higher than most by a small margin, but were never set off by any form of cosmetic. I'd never seen the need to wear make-up. What was the point when you didn't want anyone looking at you? My dark shoulder length hair had finally started getting used to the constant humidity here, but had not lost its disobedient curls or waves.

I sighed in frustration and looked down to my wrist for a hair tie. Checking myself again, I walked out into the living room again and paced.

Time passed too slowly, and I jumped on my bike as soon as I could justify it. The ride to the library (if it could be called that, it was tiny) was short and wet, as always. I checked my watch, and realized I was half an hour early.

I peered through their limited selection of classics, and laughed when I saw Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet" on the shelf. Forks was not Santa Fe. My parents would have named me Khalil when I was born, had I not been a girl, their once free-spirited intellectualism clouding their judgment. I was glad that they had decided otherwise. My mother taught at St. Johns College, a liberal school with no majors and a common curriculum in which every student learns every subject, with an emphasis on classical texts. I'd been read Shakespeare and Homer as a child instead of "Poky the Puppy".

I opened the book carefully, and began to read the first page, the words familiar to me though I hadn't heard them in years.

"Gibran?" I jumped, dropping the book in the process. A pale, perfect hand reached out and caught it effortlessly. I looked up knowing what I'd see, still unprepared for it when I did. There he was, so beautiful it hurt. His dark brown hair with their natural blond highlights was tousled from the wind and rain. Yet something was different. He wasn't as pale, his milky smooth skin offset by hints of rose on his statuesque cheekbones, a face that was too perfect. His eyes, the ones that had bored into me so intensely a few days ago, were now noticeably lighter, though I figured that was from the more subdued lighting of the library. Those changes were not the most striking, I realized. As I stared at him, he did not look like he wanted nothing more than to run, he did not look like he was fighting himself to be polite enough to stay, he didn't look angry. He looked almost relaxed, though I noticed he had backed up as soon as he handed me the book again, his hands gripping his bag almost too intensely. He gave me a half smile, his teeth barely showing. I tried to come up with a reply, but I couldn't think of anything worth saying in response. I smiled at him, hoping he would say something instead.

"Shall we sit down?." His voice was restrained and smooth, still standing a few feet back.

I nodded, my mind taking note of his every action for later analysis. He was still so different, so impossibly graceful, the strange pull I felt towards him grew stronger. Those eyes, tortured and deep...I knew that my hopes in ending my unhealthy obsession were misplaced. He walked over to the small table and pulled out a chair for me, waiting politely as I fumbled with my backpack and sat down. I stared across the table and cleared my throat.

"So... themes in Romeo and Juliet, pretty simple, the forcefulness of love, violence as a product of passion, individual versus society, and all that." I looked quickly at my lap. He let out a soft breath, a chuckle maybe, and nodded.

"It sounds simple enough when you put it that way, but what about fate? The inevitability of it? The star-crossed lovers?" He inclined his head a little in my direction, questioning my logic. I shrugged.

"Sure, I guess. I always thought that fate is over played in Romeo and Juliet. Isn't it society, and their individual fickleness that screws them over in the end? Or maybe that's part of what fate is supposed to be…" I trailed off, leaving his own question open for him.

"You don't really believe in fate, do you." He asked, his voice holding a hint of distress for a reason I didn't understand. I was startled, but decided to answer him, even though his words were rhetorical.

"I mean, I believe a person's actions construct most of their 'fate'. There are certain things that a person has no control over, things that change the outcome of a life, and maybe that's what the traditional version of fate is. I don't know." I shook my head at my sudden openness. I wasn't an open person.

He nodded, strangely thoughtful, and continued on with the rest of the project, maybe sensing my discomfort.

"And the soundtrack? I brought some music, if you would like to take a look." He said leaning in to look at me, butterscotch eyes staring into my hazel ones intensely.

"Yeah, I brought some too." I said, suddenly nervous about the fact that I'd brought a personal CD player and a few discs with me.

The Cullens' were obviously on the higher end of the money spectrum. Their cars and classy clothing hinted at wealth that was unheard of here. Let alone my music, which was far from typical for a teenager...

"Ladies first," He smiled again, leaving me momentarily breathless.

I reached down into my bag and pulled out my discs. He scanned the table, letting out another breath of quiet amusement.

"I have a lot of these, though it's not exactly what I expected."

I wondered what he meant by that, but didn't ask.

He studied my music seriously, listening every once in a while with an unreadable expression on his face. I looked at my watch, suddenly aware that I might have lost track of time. I was right. Time had passed quickly, for a school project. It was already two thirty, and I had more homework to do, especially for math, and my mother...

I fought back the pang of guilt again and looked at Will.

"I have to go. See you at school on Monday. We should get together to finish this, maybe next weekend?" I said, shaking my head at my own thoughtlessness, my words rushed. He looked concerned and confused by my sudden departure.

"Next weekend sounds like it would work. See you at school. Be safe getting home." His voice was again oddly serious, and not knowing how to respond, I simply nodded.

Next weekend, I thought another opportunity and another mystery. I barely noticed the rain pounding on my back as I rode my bike home, my mind wrapping itself around the afternoon I had just had, anticipating the week to come.

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